At dusk a breeze of relief
skims over shoulders
light losing its grip on ambition
as dreams take over their domain
strictly business as usual
fireflies fluttering
where bees spent the day foraging

Smoke signals
from a passing car
smell like longing and leftover
Christmases never used up
give up your spot in line
don’t be afraid, when
night falls with its treasure

Tantalizing Tuesday: Alex Forrest – villain, or just misunderstood?

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It was supposed to be a one-night stand. A dalliance, that by some is viewed as harmless. Harmless to any long-lasting problems, harmless to the marriage in general. An adventure. A door that opens and closes, almost upon itself. Then again, some doors should not be opened because they cannot be closed again. This was 1987. The AIDS crisis gave us plenty to be concerned about. But I am getting ahead of myself in the story.

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asylum

still looking for safety
somewhere to
sleep all night
and wake without fear
inside stalwart walls
no one can penetrate

first warm days of Spring
make me nostalgic
remembering good and bad
and horrible, blended
with lies and poured into
something tall and frosty

we drank coffee for water
those days
old plumbing I never trusted
rust colored fount at day break
I let it run and hummed
breaking eggs into a hot pan

I sorted the tangled
ate what was offered
seeking asylum
with the girl I used to be
thumbing my nose
at the world

tender dreams
and sick fantasies
kept him alive
winters cold enough
to freeze off toes
dark enough to hide
what he did not know

Was I dreaming

The morning is alien
was it a dream?
I slept in London in 1944
stumbling over broken up streets
past bombed out houses

I woke in the Colosseum
surrounded by lions
blinking and unable to see
dust in my eyes hair mouth
roar of the crowd in my ears

the door leading back outside
opened up to Ethiopia –
the want and cares
of day to day existing
beating against cracked earth

I wandered until finding
a patch of green
and falling back to sleep
I woke up here this morning
the air alien
and frightening

will you let it go



sometimes I write about myself
in third person
so you will never guess
that it is me
that I went through the fire
and came out charred and worn

it is best that you do not know
how often you come to mind
how well I know you
and talk about you to others
it is best you think
about someone else

don’t take this away from me
this safety of darkness
don’t lose the sense of wonder
they beat out of you, in the days
when you were just at the surface
gasping for air-

My forest

When I dream
I see what might have been
if Hansel and Gretl’s father
had a change of heart
if he went into the forest
to find them
before they tasted the candy walls

But this life was destined
to be a life of dungeons,
pitfalls, and swamps
and utterly
uphill only

Awake

in some realities
all the roses have thorns
some lives matter
others wish they had
not been born
clinging to life
I turn from the naysayers
fistfuls of candy
from wolves
and the players
I find it difficult
sleeping at night
so I stay awake wandering
avoiding the light

falling asleep delirious from sickness
suddenly upon me on a cool foggy morning
I dreamt there was a bee around me
frantically trying to catch it as one
might cup a firefly in the palms
then realizing I could get stung I told myself
open your hands open your hands it will sting you
but they didn’t move for anxious moments
feeling the wings flutter the fat yellow black body
against my skin finally the sides of my hands
unglued I pulled them apart
and the bee hovered then flew